Her First Love
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: She had waited so long for this moment. She remembered all the work she had done, all the canvassing, all the meetings she had attended, and the secret rallies she had snuck out to without her family's knowledge. This was happening…this was finally happening! A story about a great lady, and the great cause she fought for women like us today (For Sybil Suffragettes Everywhere!)


**Her First Love  
_By The Yankee Countess_**

She held her breath.

This was happening…this was _finally_ happening!

She had waited so long for this moment. She remembered all the work she had done, all the canvassing, all the meetings she had attended, and the secret rallies she had snuck out to without her family's knowledge. She remembered the speeches she had given to her parents, her sisters, her friends; she remembered being mocked and laughed and having her passions belittled by those who either chose not to understand, or who honestly didn't want this to happen. She remembered the letters she had written, both to the women she admired, and to the Prime Minister, urging him and Parliament to hear her cry, along with the cries of hundreds and thousands of others…

And then it happened.

The law changed. The thing she and her fellow suffragettes had been working so hard for, had even agreed to set aside because of the War, finally came into being.

The Vote. _They had the vote!_

…Although it wasn't entirely what she had been hoping for.

A woman must be a minimum of 30 years of age…and have property…in order to vote. This was true in both Britain, and Ireland.

She remembered reading the decision in the paper…and being absolutely irate about the whole thing.

Poor Tom; suddenly she was on her feet, throwing pots and pans violently into their sink, and he hadn't read the article. But when he did…he understood where she was coming from, and like any good "male suffragette", he joined her by the sink, and threw in a pot as well, while listening to her curse and shout at the idiocy of it all.

However, after she had gotten that rage out of her system…she was able to sit down and calmly look at it all. "It's a door…" she whispered at last. "The door is opening…just a little slowly."

She hated that she would have to wait, and she hated the injustice done to women who were young, poor, and worked in service. But at the same time, it was a step they hadn't had before. The door was opening, and women were beginning to take that step and get the vote. It would just be a matter of time…before the country finally saw the error of its ways and extended the right to all women, everywhere.

The years passed. She never stopped her passions. She never stopped attending meetings or rallies, she never stopped writing letters or canvassing. In fact, she was more passionate than ever before.

Tom told her she was an inspiration. She was a working mother, with two happy and healthy children and now a third one on the way. She had recently been granted the position of Head Nurse, and many of the younger nurses saw her as a wonderful mentor, and strived to be like Nurse Sybil Branson.

When she turned 29, Sybil began a countdown. Some women hated to admit they were 30, and often lied about their age. For Sybil, she couldn't wait. On the morning of her 30th birthday, Tom and the children had made her breakfast in bed, and cheered when she opened her eyes and grinned at the sight of the candle in her breakfast scone. While most children would say "Happy Birthday Mummy!" her eldest instead said, "Congratulations Mummy! You can vote now!" Sybil laughed and grabbed her daughter and gave her a big hug and a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek. She wasted no time; that afternoon, Tom accompanied her to the registration office.

Now she just needed to wait a few months.

Those months dragged, of course; Sybil felt like she was watching a race between a tortoise and a snail. But finally…the day had come. And she rose early, as if it were Christmas morning. Her mother-in-law took the children, and both she and Tom walked hand in hand to the polling station.

"Good luck, my darling," he whispered in her ear, before kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand, as he stepped forward to cast his own ballot.

She smiled and thanked him and then waited with bated breath for the man at the desk to hand her a ballot; her _first_ ballot.

_And many, many more will follow it,_ she vowed then and there. Every year, no matter how miniscule or unimportant that election seemed, she promised herself that she would be there, first thing in the morning…and she would vote. When she was an old woman, she would make sure her children and grand-children and God willing, any great-grand-children that she had, would understand that they needed to wheel her to the polling place, because nothing, not even tired old bones, would stop her from exorcising this right she had been working so hard to achieve.

The ballot was placed in her fingers. Sybil smiled and took a pen and immediately went to work. When she was done, she walked to the large box in the center of the room, the place to cast her ballot. Her fingers were trembling! But before she dropped the slip of paper into the box, she paused…looked down at it once more…and then gave it a kiss, before finally dropping it in the box. This was, in some ways, her first love…and you never forget your first, so they say.

Tom was waiting for her outside and smiled when she exited the place. "Well?" he asked, offering her his arm.

A joyous laugh escaped her throat and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight. The outburst was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. Tom laughed and held her close, even spun her around as she giggled and murmured over and over in his ear, "I've done it! I voted! IT'S HAPPENED!"

"I know, love, I know," he laughed, before finally setting her on her feet. "And I'm so happy for you."

She grinned and wrapped her arm through his. "Every woman should be so happy," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "And so lucky…"

While he was tempted to make a joke at his ego's expense, about how yes, every woman should be so lucky and have a man like him…he didn't. He knew this was too precious and too important of a moment for her to be slighted by any quip of his. "They will, love," he murmured, kissing her forehead as they began to walk to their respective work places. "Thanks to women like you who never gave up, and who keep striving…they will. One day, they _all_ will."

* * *

_SOAP BOX MOMENT! If you are a woman of voting age, and have the right to vote...DO SO! This is a message not just to my fellow American women on this Election Day, but to women everywhere. There are sadly, so many out there who are still denied this basic human right. Exorcise that right in honor of them, strive to be a voice for those women trapped in the margins, and vote in honor and memory of the ones who came generations before us and who worked so hard, so that we may have a voice and decision in our respective countries._

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this 1000 word drabble (is it still a drabble if it's just over 1000 words?) And I hope Lady Sybil Branson inspired you, as she inspired me when I watched that first season of "Downton". AND for any history buffs out there, 1928, both Britain and Ireland changed their laws, giving women ages 21 and older, the right to vote, regardless of whether or not they owned/kept property. _

_Please leave a comment! THANKS AGAIN FOR READING AND HAPPY ELECTION DAY, WHEREVER YOU ARE IN THE WORLD!_


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